


Pinky Swear

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4x02, 4x02 Coda, Bus Kids - Freeform, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, canon compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: “I, Leo Fitz, hereby pinky-swear, that I will not ever lie about Daisy to you, Jemma Simmons, ever again so long as we both shall live.”set soon after 4x02.





	

Fitz paced the limited floorspace of their bedroom, tapping his card against one hand as he walked. It was green. The lowest rank except yellow. Well. Not the lowest. Apparently they weren’t hierarchical anymore, although the fact that he couldn’t even scan or photocopy a lot of what Jemma worked with begged to differ. Fitz ground his teeth together. 

At first the new ranking had simply been a nuisance, keeping him from spending time with her, especially since he couldn’t even help with her higher-up work. Even keeping AIDA a secret, though uncomfortable, he could handle. This was part of their life now. Lies and love and trust that it was all going to be okay, and trying not to hold anything against each other. But this, now, this was too much. This was pain, eating into his heart. Danger or no, lie detector or no, he couldn’t lie to her about this. They’d just have to find a way to get around it. 

Fitz stood solid and stared at the door, waiting. It was decided. 

 _I’m doing what I have to do,_ Daisy had said. Just like Jemma had, over and over, to herself and to him as she took the obstacles and restrictions her new position threw at her in her stride. Increasingly, recently, she’d come back to the bunk after a long day of being glared at and whispered about, mostly by their subordinates, but even by May. It was starting to gnaw at her, but she soldiered on. Was that what Daisy had meant? That she was in pain too, but for some reason, she had to stay away? 

Fitz resumed pacing, tapping and turning his card as his thoughts began to spin. His own words twisted in his gut. He shouldn’t have yelled at her, he hadn’t meant it like that. Of course she was in pain. She had suffered so terribly and so deeply, all Fitz wanted to do was hold her. But why stay away? Was somebody threatening her? If so, why not find a way to tell them? Why couldn’t Daisy understand that all they had ever wanted to do was help?

And the medicine – Elena…did Jemma know about that? It was unlike her to let supplies go missing on her watch, especially since now more than ever it was essential that she did an exemplary, unquestionable job. Had Simmons been lying to _him_ this whole time? 

He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, though at the shock of the thought or of the opening door, he couldn’t be sure. 

It was Jemma, of course, and the words blurted out before he can move himself onto another thought.

“Did you know?” 

“…Know what?” 

She was clearly frazzled by something else, and Fitz made a note in the back of his mind to ask her about it later, but this had to go first. Daisy was too pressing on his thoughts to be ignored. 

“Did you know that Elena’s helping Daisy?”

Simmons gaped, frowned, and nodded, her brow furrowing.

“That makes sense,” she murmured, moving slowly to sit on the bed, frowning at the floor. “I mean obviously _someone’s_ been doing it. I just sort of ignored it. Looked the other way. It has to be helping, right?” 

She looked up at him – for an answer, for support – but Fitz could not reply. He wasn’t sure what ‘helping’ was supposed to mean in these circumstances. Helping Daisy push her body too far in pursuit of whatever nameless mission she was after? Or helping her stay a few steps back from an edge she would have otherwise fallen over long ago? 

Simmons frowned at his silence, it speaking for itself, and lowered her head again. Her posture slumped, exhausted from work and worry, and Fitz hummed gently as he came to sit beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him so she didn’t have to hold herself up. She turned against his chest and nuzzled into his embrace, grateful for the contact that was so rare these days, but her deeply contemplative expression did not let up. 

“I’d always figured it was you, somehow,” she explained. 

“Me?”

Simmons shrugged, as well as she could in her current position.

“You would do anything to protect Daisy. You know I’m not supposed to know where she is. You also have access to the lab, and the knowledge and care to expect that she could be doing this to herself again.” 

“But I wouldn’t _lie_ about it!” 

Fitz removed his arms to defend himself with an emphatic wave, and Simmons sat up, surprised at his defensiveness. 

“You have before! And as it turned out, you were right. And I trust you. I don’t think you’d lie without good reason, and Daisy is the best reason I can think of.” 

Fitz scoffed, but his bravado was nothing but puff. He couldn’t look at her calm, earnest, concerned expression without feeling a stab of guilt, well-meaning though it had been. 

“You _are_ lying, aren’t you?” Simmons pressed. “You’re keeping something from me. The other night, you were so distracted…” 

Fitz’ defensive aloofness melted as Simmons’ tone grew soft. 

“You can’t tell me, can you?” she checked, already resigned to his answer. Before she could lower her eyes and let the conversation fade into the tumultuous day, Fitz wrapped her hands in his. He met her eyes with his own, fierce and sincere. 

“It’s not about Daisy,” he promised. “I swear. I will never lie to you about Daisy again.” 

He didn’t let his gaze drop, even when Simmons pressed her lips together and drew her shoulders up tall. 

“Pinky swear,” she insisted. 

Fitz lifted one of his hands from hers, and after a moment, looked down at it with a flicker of confusion across his face.

“Um, I don’t think I can…”

Simmons lifted one of her hands too, and gently ran it over Fitz’, coaxing his hand into position with their smallest fingers locked together. Fitz smiled down at their joined hands, then up, across at Simmons. 

“There we go,” Simmons murmured. “Pinky swear.” 

With a smirk, Fitz affected a noble expression. 

“I, Leo Fitz, hereby pinky-swear, that I will not ever lie about Daisy to you, Jemma Simmons, ever again so long as we both shall live.”

Simmons sorted, and snuffed a giggle with her other hand. 

“Til death to us part?” she teased. 

“I…um…I didn’t mean it like…”

Simmons shook her head, and pulled Fitz closer and down by their joined hands to kiss him. 

“I like it,” she promised. 

The whole room seemed to breathe a soft sigh of relief, and Fitz and Simmons moved in unison to lie down, and shuffle up the covers until their heads were at their pillows. They shared another few kisses, brief and yet lingering, for good measure, and swapped their joined pinkies for holding hands again. Fitz had taken to wrapping his hands around Simmons’; they were smaller, and always cold, and maybe he thought he could warm up her whole body that way. She was content to let him try.

“Well, that’s enough about my problems,” Fitz decided eventually. “What about you? Are you okay? Is it ‘classified’ or can I actually help this time?” 

Simmons sighed. 

“I’m not sure about either, to be honest,” she confessed. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath, and Fitz felt his heart sink alongside hers. 

“It’s May,” Simmons breathed. “I’m really, really scared.” 

Simmons had never been one for the murmuring of sweet nothings when there were plans to be made, but she seemed beyond both now. Instead, Fitz drew her closer again, and maneuvered the blankets around them until they had a tiny, warm sanctuary with only each other to hold.

Between Daisy and May and everything else going on, they didn’t get much sleep that night, but it was as wholesome as most any slumber just to take the time to _be_. The tides and currents of their work had kept them apart for so long, it was nice to return to their own solid foundations. Under those covers, they talked about the things two friends and lovers talked about late at night – space and ghosts and the meaning of life – and they kissed and hugged and explored with their hands and tongues and made love, and relished the fact that in their touch, nobody had to lie. 


End file.
